Indelible
by bannerday
Summary: Some experiences, some people, stick with you forever, leaving their mark on your memories. You can't escape what they meant to you and you can't re-write the past. It's indelible. But the future isn't set in stone…it's yours to write. A story about forks in the road of life and a past with a future.
1. Boy on a Bike

**Summary: Some experiences, some people, stick with you forever, leaving their mark on your memories. You can't escape what they meant to you and you can't re-write the past. It's indelible. But the future isn't set in stone…it's yours to write. A story about forks in the road of life and a past with a future.**

**Indelible**

**A/N**: This has been marinating and cooking in my head for quite a while. Thanks for giving it a shot.

Disclaimer: No infringing going on here.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Boy on a Bike**

I couldn't breathe. I just sat behind the wheel of Charlie's pick-up truck, frozen in shock as my heart slammed in my chest.

I hadn't noticed the boy on the bike until he was already shooting out in front of me, right after the light had changed. Somehow I'd managed to hit the brakes in time and he sailed past, unscathed, trying to outride the coming rain. He never even looked up. He just disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared.

The sky opened up just as an impatient honk sounded behind me. I jumped, my eyes snapping to the rear-view mirror, to the sport utility vehicle behind me, its occupant gesturing an irritated and universal _what-the-hell_ as I remained stopped at the green light. It was obvious he had just pulled up and hadn't seen the near-collision…nor the elusive boy on the bike.

I wondered if I'd really seen him.

Grasping the wheel with shaky hands, I hit the accelerator abruptly and Charlie's truck lurched forward. I felt the sudden drench of panicky sweat and turned a hard right into the gas station just past the intersection. Pulling up near the garage and killing the engine, the attack hit full throttle: tears, chest pains, hideous gasping sounds.

Sudden quick sharp raps on the passenger-side door startled me.

Big Sam Uley stood outside in the downpour in his Shell station rain slicker. He must have heard the squeal of the tires as I'd pulled in and had come running from the garage bay. His hands cupped around his eyes as he leaned close to the passenger window, peering in.

"Bella? You okay?" he hollered over the drum of pelting rain. I shook my head.

"Unlock the door!" he yelled.

Nodding and gasping noisy, ugly gulps, I hit the unlock button and Sam barreled into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind him, dripping everywhere. He whipped the hood of his slicker off his head.

"What's wrong? You sick?"

I shook my head. "P-panic at-tack," I croaked between ungodly gasps.

"Okay, take it easy. You've got to slow your breathing or you'll hyperventilate."

I nodded stiffly and closed my eyes. Sam wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. I was no stranger to panic attacks, though it had certainly been awhile.

Placing my hands on my stomach, I tried to slow my breathing, paying attention to the steady push and pull of deliberate breaths. Sam's low, deep voice coached and counted my inhales and exhales, helping me to focus. I began to calm and the attack gradually passed, leaving me feeling wrung out, weak, and clammy.

"Better?" His voice was cautious. He was watching me like he might not trust my answer.

I nodded as embarrassment crept in, replacing the panic. "Yeah. Um…thanks, Sam. For coming out. And for staying."

His eyes were kind. He just shrugged like it was no big deal. "Sure."

"The counting helped," I told him, trying to think of something, anything, to say, rather than just sit there stupidly.

"Being in the delivery room with Emily a few times taught me something about focusing on breathing." He gave me a little smile but his eyes were serious and a little uncertain.

"What happened, Bella?" he finally asked. "What brought that on? Was it because of…your dad?" Worry suddenly filled his eyes, as if I might flip out on him all over again. "You don't have to say if you don't want to."

I shook my head. "No, no. It's okay. It had nothing to do with Charlie. I just… Oh God…" I closed my eyes, rubbing at them with my fingertips, as if I could erase the image from my thoughts. "I almost hit…someone…on a bike back there. A boy came out of nowhere after the light changed." I gestured toward the intersection.

"A little kid? Out in this rain?"

I shook my head. "No. Older. A teenager." I couldn't be more specific; Sam would think I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had. Thankfully he didn't ask if I'd recognized the boy. He merely huffed and shook his head.

"Young punks think they own the road. No wonder you were so shaken up." He gave me a sympathetic look. "As if you haven't been through enough lately." He glanced out the windshield toward the gas station. The rain was beginning to let up a little.

"Sit tight for a minute, okay?" he asked, turning back to study me. I nodded, but before I could ask why, he was already yanking his hood up and opening the door. He ducked back out into the rain and slammed the door behind him. I watched as he darted through the rain and ran into the convenience store.

He returned with two bottles of soda. "Take your pick," he said, once he'd climbed back into the truck. "I figured you could probably use the sugar. You're still white as a ghost." He gave a soft snort and shook his head, giving me a gentle smile. "Hell, Bella, when I first saw you, you looked like you'd _seen_ a ghost."

My breath caught in my throat, but I managed a smile in return and took one of the sodas, mumbling a thank you. He nodded as we popped the caps and drank. It felt good going down—cold, crisp and sweet.

I looked out the driver's side window, watching as a car pulled up to the pumps. "I'm sure you need to get back to work, Sam. I'm sorry I..."

He must have sensed I was embarrassed about the whole panic episode. Wiping his hand across his mouth he interrupted me. "It's no big deal. Paul's in the garage. It's been a slow day and most folks use self-serve and debit or credit cards. There's not much that needs doing." Sure enough, the customer, a young man, climbed out of his car, paid at the pump with a card and began pumping his own gas.

Sam looked back at me, his eyes searching mine for a moment before he spoke. "Are you holding up okay, Bella?"

I knew he was referring to Charlie. I took a deep breath and sighed. "Yeah, I'm okay. I just take it one day at a time, you know?" He nodded but remained quiet as we drank our sodas.

The rain finally stopped though dark clouds still threatened.

"I'd better get going before the rain starts up again," I said, looking up at the sky.

"You sure you're alright to drive?" he asked. I could hear the concern in his voice.

"Yeah. I'm okay. I'll be fine. Thanks again, Sam…you know…for before."

"Don't worry about it." He opened the passenger side door and climbed out but then paused and looked back in at me once more. "I guess I'll see you the day after tomorrow. I'm sure there'll be a big turn out to pay their respects."

I nodded.

"Take care of yourself, Bella."

"I will. Goodbye, Sam."

I pulled out of the gas station and headed home, telling myself I wasn't going to think about the near-accident until I got there. But that was useless. I thought about it the whole way home. I saw those fleeting glimpses in my mind over and over again:

The green light. The sudden streak of movement coming from the side. A bicycle.

The singular and unexpected head of wild, bronze hair, nearly standing on end in the wind.

Pale skin and a remarkably strong jaw.

Flannel shirt flapping around a lanky body as long legs pumped bicycle pedals furiously.

Sam's words whispered in my ears: "…_you looked like you'd seen a ghost_."

I hadn't actually lied to Sam, but it really wasn't the near-accident that had brought on my panic attack. It was the boy on the bike himself. The shock of the impossible and the familiarity of him…of Edward Cullen.

He'd been all my firsts and he'd been everything to me right up until he didn't want to be anything to me.

They say you never forget your first love. They would be right.

The boy I saw on the bike looked to be about seventeen years old. But that was impossible. We had both been seventeen years ago.

Edward Cullen should have been thirty nine by now.

* * *

**A/N: Hmmm… **


	2. Thoughts on Forks

**Indelible**

**A/N: **Thank you for the wonderful fan-fic-fire-fuel reviews of chapter 1! Expect a reply shortly. I hope to update weekly, probably Sundays.

Hugs to AllyVera at the Ficsisters' International House of Fanfic. Check out my _Indelible_ babble and some great recs. I would give you the link, but fan-frick-dot-net doesn't like that and won't cooperate.

Disclaimer: Look elsewhere for infringers.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Thoughts on Forks**

I have no idea how long I stayed in Charlie's truck after pulling into the driveway. I just sat there, thinking about a boy from my past, certain I'd seen him and certain I hadn't.

It wasn't until the rain made its reappearance, with fat raindrops spattering and trickling tears down the windshield, that I finally climbed out and made a dash for the front porch.

I unlocked the door and let myself in to the sound of barking.

"Shh, Fitz. It's just me."

Toenails clicked a canine happy dance on hardwood as the barking continued.

"Quiet down, you silly thing. Sit!" I pointed. His rump dropped abruptly to the floor. "Good boy."

I shrugged out of my rain jacket, hanging it on the coatrack in the entryway. He waited patiently, one ear cocked, the other at ease as always. I bent down and rifled a hand through the crazy fur of his brindled coat, thumping his side and giving him a quick scratch behind his mis-matched ears. His pink slice-of-ham tongue hung out one side of his toothy grin, his tail sweeping the floor as he wagged.

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy had been a thin and scraggly mutt when he'd found me several years earlier but I'd seen his inner beauty and potential. I'm sure if I'd been living at home at the time, Charlie would have put his foot down about me taking in the homeless. As it was, I'd been living in an apartment on my own again by then, and I'd been happy for the company. Fitz had seemed happy for the company as well and undoubtedly for the regular meals and warm and relatively plush accommodations.

When I'd moved back home to help Charlie out nearly a year ago, Fitz had been part of the deal. By that time Charlie was already used to him as a regular visitor and I think having Fitz around was somewhat therapeutic for him.

I headed for the kitchen, flipping on the light switch as I went. "Who wants doggy-dinner?"

Fitz did. His toenails click-clicked along close behind me.

"And who really needs a glass of wine?" I asked myself, once I'd set Fitz' bowl on his placemat and he began chowing down.

I scanned the contents of the refrigerator. Friends and neighbors had been especially kind in the past week. The number and variety of offerings in the refrigerator and freezer were a testament to that. I just didn't feel very hungry lately, my stomach and my life equally upset.

Pouring a glass of wine, I sat down at the kitchen table and pulled a notepad and pen close. I crossed off another item on my to-do list: _drop off Dad's uniform_. Pushing the pad and pen back across the table, I reached for the most recent edition of the weekly Forks Forum. I slid it over, looking at the photo of my dad in his uniform on the front page. The accompanying article was identical to the one in the Peninsula Daily News, lying just beneath the Forks Forum.

"I think Eric Yorkie did a decent job, you know?"

Fitz looked up, his bowl now empty and licked clean. He cocked his head, as if he'd missed what I'd said, so I repeated myself.

"You know, Eric Yorkie, over at the Forks Forum? He didn't go overboard with what he wrote. Charlie would have approved."

Fitz looked over his shoulder, as if expecting Charlie's presence. I'd done the same myself several times in the past week.

"Want to hear what Eric wrote?" I asked.

Fitz sat. Apparently he did want to hear, so I cleared my throat and read.

_**City of Forks Mourns Community Leader**_

_Former Forks Police Chief, Charles "Charlie" Geoffrey Swan, age 61, died on April 7, 2013. _

_Born in Forks, Washington on October 28, 1951, to Geoffrey and Helen Swan, both deceased, Charlie was a graduate of Forks High School, class of 1970. Following an early interest in civics and law-enforcement, he joined the police force in 1972. Remaining in Forks, he worked his way up through the ranks, serving and protecting his hometown for forty years. He started as a patrolman, advanced to Sergeant in 1978, and in 1986, Charlie Swan became the youngest Chief of Police in Forks' history. He served in that capacity for twenty four years until forced to retire in May of last year, after suffering a stroke. _

_Charlie was a member of the Fraternal Order of Police, Olympic Mountain Lodge 23 and a member of the Washington Association of Sheriffs and Police Chiefs in Clallam County. _

_He maintained close ties to life-long friends in Forks and on the Quileute reservation in La Push. In his free time, Charlie was an avid fisherman. _

_Charlie is survived by his daughter, Isabella Swan, of Forks, Washington._

_A funeral service will be held at 10:00 AM on Wednesday, April 16, 2013, at the Community Church in Forks. _

By the time I'd finished reading, I was in tears and Fitz was eyeing me with concern.

"You have every right to be concerned," I cried. "Today I saw a boy I couldn't possibly have seen and now I'm reading an obituary to a dog." His tail wagged slightly at the word dog.

I grabbed a tissue, wiping at my eyes. Then I took another and blew my nose. After a shaky breath I took a shaky sip of wine before returning the Forks Forum newspaper to the opposite side of the table.

Forks. Such an apropos name.

I remember as a child asking if there were towns named Spoons or Knives. Mom had said I asked such strange questions. Dad had said he was doubtful, explaining that Forks had been named for the forks in the many nearby rivers.

As time went by, I became convinced the name Forks had even less to do with the nearby Sol Duc, Quillayute, Bogachiel, Hoh or Calawah rivers than it had to do with utensils. It seemed to have more to do with the forks in the road of life. The options and decisions sort of forks, which could be life-altering, not just for the decision-maker-fork-taker but for those who loved them. The ones they'd loved and left behind.

My mother, Renee, had been a fork-taker. She had breezed into Forks before she was twenty, travelling up the coast of the western United States with a girlfriend. When the girlfriend headed back down south to California, Renee opted out of the return trip. She'd found the Pacific Northwest and my father dreamy and interesting enough to stay, and remained behind to take a half-assed stab at marriage and motherhood.

Renee's affinity for pine green, raincloud gray, and Charlie Swan had waned after a handful of years. Always described as somewhat flighty, she eventually did take flight, veering off in a new direction with me in tow. Renee blazed a trail south in the years that followed, leaving a trail of failed relationships in her wake. I never knew quite what or whom to expect when I returned to Renee for the school year, after my childhood summers in Forks with Dad.

The one uniformity in Mom's capricious flings seemed to be her love of a man in uniform. After Policeman Charlie in Forks there had been Mailman Dave in Los Angeles, followed by Security Guard Don in Las Vegas, and finally Ballplayer Phil in Phoenix. Phil was the one to finally stick and they married a year later.

But two years after that, with an impending move to Jacksonville as Phil's career took off, I took off as well. Like a homing pigeon, or maybe a homing swan, I returned to the nest in Forks to finish out my high school years with Dad, freeing Mom up to follow Phil from ballpark to ballpark.

Mom had been the first to check out of Forks; Dad the most recent. I hadn't expected Mom to ever return. I knew for certain Dad wouldn't…though I suppose he would never completely leave this place.

Of course there had been others besides Mom who'd set their sights beyond Forks. High school friends and acquaintances had headed off to points beyond, pursuing the paths that led to their futures. And years later, a disenchanted husband had followed suit, though I think I'd probably left him long before he'd decided to physically leave me.

For all of them, it had been obvious their time in Forks had expired. They'd been restless to move on, anxious to get away.

But Edward Cullen had been different. When the time had come for him to leave, he had been reluctant about going. And then after that, we had both mistakenly assumed he would always return, at the very least.

And even when he had left for good I'd waited for a long time.

And hoped.

Until I'd finally stopped waiting.

And eventually gave up hoping.

For years afterwards…maybe still…I'd always felt he'd departed before the clock had run out, and I'd always wondered, what if things had been different for us? What if our roads hadn't diverged in the green-not-yellow wood of Forks? Would that have made all the difference?

* * *

**A/N: Does that answer a question or two? **

**The last lines are a reference to **_**The Road Not Taken**_**, by Robert Frost.**


	3. Food for Thought

**Indelible**

**A/N: **So...this update is a week late AND a day early! (I'm probably not capable of sticking to a schedule.) Thank you for the reviews and rec's. They make me want to write.

Big hugs to Twi-Holic68 for the lovely Indelible banner on my profile page. She's a big bowl of fabulous for finding Bella's dog, Fitz. Be sure to check it out!

Disclaimer: Infringement-free zone ahead.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Food for Thought**

I took a quick shower after I'd finished my glass of wine. The hot water soothed me as I washed away the grubbiness of the panic attack I'd had on my way home. I suppose I was also attempting to wash away the crazy imaginings that had brought on that panic attack.

I had pulled on pajamas and just finished drying my hair when the doorbell rang. Grabbing my robe, I shrugged into it as I headed downstairs, where Fitz was already in position, barking at whoever was on the other side of the door. I shushed him and peered through the peephole in the door. Charlie's next-door neighbor stood on the front porch in her raincoat, her hood pulled up to shield her graying red bouffant and stylish tri-focal glasses. She was holding a plastic grocery bag by its tied handles.

Mrs. Cope was sixty-one like Dad had been. They had known each other since childhood, back when she was still Shelly Anderson and Forks only had half its current population. She and Charlie had even been in the same graduating class at Forks High. After graduating, she'd gone off to college and nursing school and then returned to Forks to marry her high school sweetheart, George Cope. They'd bought the house next door to my parents when I was just a toddler.

Opening the door, I greeted her with a smile. She returned my smile, but hers faltered as she surveyed my appearance—all ready for bed at only six o'clock.

"Bella, are you sick, honey?" There was instant concern in her gentle voice and bright blue eyes.

"No, no, I'm fine. I just took an early shower and wanted to get comfortable." I motioned for her to come inside.

Hopefully my words were convincing. I certainly didn't want to tell her I'd had a panic attack because I'd nearly run over my high school boyfriend—a boy who hadn't lived in Forks for two decades—nor did I want her to know that said boy hadn't appeared to age in the intervening twenty years. The nurse in Shelly might be inclined to whisk me off to a trained professional for evaluation and observation if I were to let that slip.

Her smile reappeared as she carefully removed her hood. "Well, you're certainly allowed to get all cozy on a rainy afternoon like this."

She hefted the bag in her hand and I saw it held a plastic container. "I just stopped by because George wanted soup tonight, so I made his favorite—chicken and dumplings. I remembered it was your favorite when you were little, so I brought you some. It's still hot, but it'll keep if you've had dinner already."

When Mom and Dad had divorced, it was Mrs. Cope, off work until the fall, who had watched me during the day whenever Charlie had to work during my summer visits to Forks. The Copes had never had children of their own, but Shelly Cope had mothered hundreds during the school year, working in the high school attendance office and fulfilling the role of school nurse when needed.

"Oh, Mrs. Cope. Thank you. That was really thoughtful." I smiled and took the bag from her outstretched hand. "I actually haven't eaten. I just… I really…"

I was about to say I didn't have much of an appetite, but when I caught the aroma, my stomach growled and I suddenly realized just how hungry I was. "Oh, gosh, this smells absolutely wonderful."

She looked pleased. "Well, I just figured…you know…with the rain…and all…maybe you needed some comfort food, honey." Her voice cracked a little and her eyes were suddenly glassy. "Gosh darn it. I told myself I wouldn't cry," she said, dabbing briskly at her eyes.

I shifted the bag to the side and pulled her in for a one-armed hug. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

"I'm such a big baby," she said as she hugged me back tightly. "I just can't believe he's gone."

"I know," I said, tearing up in her familiar maternal embrace. "Me neither."

Mr. Cope always said he and his wife had picked the safest place in Forks to live—right next to the home of the future Chief of Police. As it turned out, Dad and I had been lucky to have a retired nurse living in the house next door when he had the stroke a year ago. Mrs. Cope had recognized stroke symptoms when he had shown up on her doorstep one morning, slightly disheveled, visibly distressed, and unable to speak. She'd called the paramedics and then called me home from the apartment I'd had in Port Angeles at the time.

We hadn't been as lucky when Charlie suffered the heart attack that had claimed his life a week ago. But Shelly's presence had bought me a year with my dad that I might not otherwise have had. And despite the fact that it had been a tough year, it had also been a good year, and I would be forever grateful for that extra time with Charlie.

Pulling away, Mrs. Cope gave me an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I swear I didn't come over here to upset you and make you cry. I just wanted to bring you a little something in case you were hungry and didn't feel like making anything."

I nodded and swiped at my eyes. "I know. It's okay. And I think this soup is just what I need, so thank you for bringing it over."

"Of course." She smiled sympathetically. "You know you're like family, Bella. Our door is always open to you if you ever need anything or you just want some company. George and I are always home."

I nodded and thanked her again, and once we'd said our goodbyes, I settled back at the kitchen table and ate. Fitz followed my every move with a well-practiced look of starvation in his eyes. I thought about Mrs. Cope's kindness as I shared the last few bits of chicken and dumpling with him and then washed out the container.

Halfway through my junior year I'd returned to Forks to live with Charlie full-time, freeing Mom up to follow Phil from ballpark to ballpark in his rising career in the minors. Even though I knew he loved me, living with Charlie was awkward those first few days, and I wondered how he really felt about having me there for the long haul. I didn't want to be an inconvenient obligation.

It was Mrs. Cope who had given me a different perspective on the situation.

She'd been there in the front office at Forks High my first day—that first day of second semester. She'd handed me my schedule of classes and then leaned forward and quietly said, "I know your dad is on the quiet side, Bella, and he might not show it, but I know he's really been looking forward to having you come live with him." Smiling at my probable look of surprise, she'd added, "Think about it, honey. He makes it his job to keep others safe. Imagine how happy he must be to really have someone of his very own to take care of—and not just for a short visit."

In the days that followed I paid attention to my father's actions and words. He didn't hover like Mom did, but I thought I saw evidence of what Mrs. Cope had surmised. Eventually I decided our initial awkwardness was probably due to both of us feeling equally apprehensive, wondering how the other really felt about the situation.

"Come on, Fitz. Let's go up and read for a while." I patted my leg and he dutifully accompanied me upstairs as my thoughts drifted back to that first day of school.

I'd returned to the office at the end of the day to hand in a copy of my schedule, initialed by each teacher throughout the day as I'd checked into each class. Mrs. Cope had been there at the counter once again, deep in conversation with a student...my Advanced Biology lab partner. Waiting my turn, I'd hung back by the door, trying not to eavesdrop, though I couldn't help but overhear bits and pieces. It seemed he was trying, unsuccessfully, to make a schedule change. Clearly frustrated, he finally gave up, brushing past me with an angry glare and storming out the door.

Mrs. Cope rolled her eyes, but then she smiled at me as I approached. Moments later she burst into a fit of laughter and assured me that Edward Cullen certainly wasn't trying to drop Advanced Biology because of me.

As I entered my bedroom, Fitz bounded up onto the bed, making his circular approach and then flopping into position. I headed to my bookcase, looking for an escape. Something I could sink into so I didn't have to think. Something familiar.

I scanned the books I'd lugged all over the Olympic Peninsula—from Forks, to Seattle, to Port Angeles, and back again. I hadn't brought all my books back home—not by any stretch of the imagination. Most of them were in storage with the rest of my former apartment. I'd only moved my most important belongings back home, since there was so little room here.

My current pared-down book collection held a few childhood favorites and some well-thumbed classics I'd loved in high school—books I nearly knew by heart, like the leather-bound volume of Shakespeare—its _Romeo and Juliet_ pages coming loose after so many readings. There were a few poetry books and a variety of high school and college required readings that had become more than a requirement to me. There were some other books as well. My eyes skipped over the glossy series of Young Adult romance novels by I. M. Byrd and moved on to some recent purchases I'd read and kept.

I reached out several times, changing my mind each time. Nothing really appealed to me. Nothing spoke to me.

But that was a lie.

Something was speaking to me, all right. It just wasn't here on the shelves with the other published books.

I chewed at my lip for a moment before finally turning away from the bookshelves. I went to my closet, opened the door and then moved my laundry basket aside. Shoved into the corner was an unmarked box that spoke to me—its contents loudly calling to me. I suppose I should have known I would wind up here, crouched on the floor, wrestling the box from its hiding place so I could retrieve the book I sought from its cardboard vault.

Ignoring several stacks of letters that lay beneath, I took the book out, closed the box up, and shoved it back into the corner. After arranging my pillows and myself on my bed, I looked down at the old spiral notebook in my hands. Its green cover matching the fading ink within. The color choice had been purely coincidental, yet fitting, for the scrawled musings of a seventeen year old girl, in the greenest of locales, as her thoughts slowly turned to a boy with the greenest of eyes.

Opening the notebook, I crept into the past.

* * *

**A/N: So…like the chapter title... there's some food for thought.**


	4. Into the Green

**Indelible**

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews. I love your ponderings! This chapter is on the lighter side and on the longer side. We're jumping into the past, 22 years ago, to 17-year-old Bella. Journal entries are in italics and flashback "snapshots" are in regular font. In future chapters you'll get bits of the present, interspersed with pieces of the past…until the two converge.

Disclaimer: I'm not writing to infringe.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Into the Green**

_Friday, February 1, 1991_

_Made it home. And that's just weird. Charlie's house is now home. Well, it used to be my home too, I guess. It's just weird to think of it that way, especially since I haven't been to Forks for the past few years. The drive back from the airport in Port Angeles was weird too. Usually Charlie asks me about Phoenix and I tell him the latest but this ride was sort of uncomfortable and quiet at first, except for the radio. Halfway home he started talking more, but the questions were awkward and I started wondering if he was having second thoughts about letting me come live with him…_

*I*

He looks over as he drives. "Did you just cut your hair?"

"What?" I look down at my hair and frown because it hasn't been trimmed in ages. "I think it's actually longer than last time, Dad." He nods, looking back out the windshield and now he seems even more uncomfortable.

"Did you just…trim your mustache?" I ask after a moment, cocking an eyebrow and letting him know his question was kind of goofy.

He side-eyes me and then he chuckles. "Smart-aleck." He shifts and leans to look at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. "I think it's actually longer than last time, Bells."

I laugh and I see the smile lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes and I think maybe things will get more normal as we get used to this.

As we get to the Forks city limits he has a few more questions. "Do you have a favorite color? You're not into pink, are you?"

We're going to discuss favorite colors now? "Pink? No, I'm not into pink. I don't know. I don't really have a favorite. Why?"

He shrugs. "Just wondering. "How do you feel about green? Or purple?"

I squint at him, thinking how far away from normal this conversation seems to be going. Does he mean the Olympic Peninsula? It's green but I don't see any purple anywhere. He catches my expression and exhales in frustration.

"Green and purple are good colors," I finally offer. He seems to relax a bit, so I add, "I like green and purple." He finally smiles and I think he looks like he's got a secret, but I'm afraid to ask because who knows where that conversation will go.

*I*

_After lunch at the diner we drove past the high school on the way home. Charlie got me registered earlier in the week. I just have to pick up my schedule in the front office on Monday before classes. He told me Mrs. Cope still works there, so I'll already have a friend at school. I hope he doesn't think I'll be hanging out with Mrs. Cope. She was always nice to me when I was little but it's already bad enough that I'm the daughter of the Chief of Police. My life will go right in the crapper if I'm best friends with the attendance lady. _

_When we got home I discovered what that green and purple conversation was about. Charlie fixed up my room. It's purple and green and that might sound weird, but it looks nice and I told him so. _

*I*

He's standing in the doorway, rubbing at the back of his neck and I can't help but smile because I get it now. He was worried I wouldn't like it. But I do.

"This is great, Dad. I really like the green paint. And the purple bedding." I turn and smile at him. "It hardly looks like the same room." He shrugs like it's no big deal, but he's wrong.

"It was time to fix the place up," he says. "I brought the rocking chair up from the living room so you'd have a place to sit and read. I got the desk and chair so you could do your homework. You can do work downstairs on the kitchen table, too," he quickly adds.

The boxes Mom mailed from Phoenix are stacked next to the desk. They hold books and knickknacks and some clothing I probably won't need until spring or summer. There's a small shopping bag on the desk and I'm wondering what's inside.

"I picked up a few school supplies but we can go shopping this weekend for whatever else you need," he says. I can feel him watching me as I go over to take a peek in the bag.

Inside are two spiral-bound notebooks—one green and one purple—and I smile. Dad must like those colors or maybe he just likes them for me. That's fine. I can do purple and green. There's also a package mechanical pencils and a pack of pens: black, blue, red and green. No purple. I wonder if that bothered him.

"I'll leave you to get settled and start unpacking," he says. "If you need any help, just holler. And don't worry about getting it all done today. You've got the rest of the weekend."

"Okay." I nod. "And thank you, Dad. The room really looks nice."

"Sure thing, Bells." He hesitates at the door. "Door open or closed?" he asks.

"Either's fine."

He starts to close it and then decides to leave it open.

I pull out the chair at my desk and sit down, sliding the green notebook and matching pen over. I've always liked writing, so I decide maybe I'll keep track of this new phase of my life. For all I know, it could be an adventure.

*I*

_Saturday, February 2, 1991_

_I HAVE A CAR! Okay, so it's a truck, not a car, and it's old, but I have transportation and how great is that? Now I won't have to ride to school in the police cruiser…because THAT would be the best way to NOT have any friends. Except for maybe Mrs. Cope._

_Charlie said he had an errand to run this morning while I was unpacking boxes. When he came back he called me from downstairs, telling me to come out and say hi to Billy Black and his son, Jake. The three of them were smiling up a storm when I got there, lined up in front of an old red truck on the driveway. (My truck!) _

_It's been a few years, but I recognized Billy right away. But Jake…he's grown up a lot. I guess I was still expecting a little kid with chubby cheeks, not some teenager with flashing white teeth. He could be in a toothpaste commercial._

*I*

"So, what do you think, Bells?" Dad asks after I come outside and say hi to the Blacks.

I don't understand his question. What am I supposed to say? Jake's teeth are commercial-perfect and Billy's hair is longer than I remembered?

"About…Jake and Billy?" I ask hesitantly. They burst into laughter and I can feel myself blush.

"No!" Dad says with a snort. "About this truck!" He smacks a hand down on the red fender.

"Oh. It's…nice," I say, looking from him to Billy to Jake and his white teeth, wondering why they want my opinion on their truck.

"Well, so far so good, Charlie," Billy says with a laugh as he looks at Dad. "That's what you were hoping to hear."

Jake's cracking up. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shrugs as he puts me out of my misery. "It's yours, Bella," he says kind of shyly.

"What?" I stare at him and he nods, grinning.

"WHAT?" I ask again as I turn to gawk at my dad.

He nods. "I know it's not much to look at, Bells, but it's a good, safe…"

I don't even hear the rest of what he's saying. I'm too busy jumping around and shrieking…

*I*

_Sunday, February 3, 1991_

_There is nothing more embarrassing in life than buying Tampax with your father. Unless maybe it's buying them with your daughter. I don't know which of us was more mortified. Next time I'll go by myself, but this was an emergency. I also got a few more school supplies and we got some decent groceries into the house._

_I took inventory in the kitchen this morning. It took two minutes to figure out Dad isn't much of a cook. And his cookware was gross! He said he usually makes something easy or eats at the diner. So after soup and sandwiches for dinner on Friday, and take-out pizza with Jake and Billy yesterday, I decided to do something about dinner. And the disgusting cookware. _

_At the store he was rolling his eyes at all the stuff I told him we needed, but he really liked the lasagna I made tonight. (In the new Pyrex dish!) And the cookies. (On the new cookie sheets!) He didn't realize I could cook but I told him the alternative was to eat Mom's experiments. That made him laugh until I gave him examples and he realized I was dead serious._

_Everything is now organized and put away in my room and I start school tomorrow._

_Oops, almost forgot… On our way out of the store Dad saw Mrs. Weber and her daughter and he introduced us. Angela was nice. She's in my grade. Maybe we'll have some classes together. She said she would look for me in the cafeteria tomorrow for lunch. I guess Mrs. Cope is on her own._

*I*

_Monday, February 4, 1991_

_Holy hell…I don't know how I'll face Forks High tomorrow. _

_At least the day started out okay. _

_It was nice to see Mrs. Cope this morning. She thinks Dad is really happy to have me here to take care of, but I can't help thinking I'm sort of disrupting his normal routine. _

_My schedule is Algebra 2, PE, American Lit., Journalism, Lunch, Advanced Biology, and Spanish 3. In that order. My morning classes were okay, but everything went to hell after that. _

_I met Angela at lunch and we sat with some of her friends. I don't remember all their names, but I won't forget Jessica Stanley anytime soon. She talked non-stop, pointing out every person of interest and disinterest in the entire cafeteria._

_If only that were the worst of it. But no…_

*I*

"…and over there are the jocks. The cute guy in the letterman's jacket is Mike Newton. He's a junior and he plays varsity football and baseball. Tyler Crowley, next to him, is also in our grade. He's a great wrestler but he's kind of weird. Sitting across from Mike is Austin Marks, a senior. He plays basketball and thinks he's God's gift to women…"

I stop looking at Jessica. If I concentrate on my yogurt maybe she'll get the hint. But she doesn't.

I think Angela is a saint to hang out with her. Maybe it's because her father is a minister and she's just being charitable. She gives me an apologetic look and then a polite little eye roll and that strikes me funny so I return the eye roll and now she's biting back a smile. Angela is kind, but I think she might have a tiny sarcastic streak that's dying to get out…and be a little uncharitable. I like her.

Jessica continues vomiting up information and gossip instead of eating. Maybe her food is just a prop.

"…and the girl in the green dress is Samantha Larkin. Her parents paid for her to get a nose job over winter break and it doesn't even look any different…"

Angela says something about sinus problems and a deviated septum but my focus shifts to a group of students just coming through the lunch line. They stand out because everyone else is already seated and eating. One of them, a tall boy, catches my eye—well, his hair does. I can't see his face, but his hair is windswept and untamed and very unusual. The tawny, reddish-brown color combination makes me think of a lion's mane.

He turns and my breath catches in my throat because his face is even more stunning than his hair. He's not just good-looking, he's absolutely gorgeous. I can't help staring at him. "Who is…?" I stop and rephrase my question. "Who are _they_?"

Luckily, Jessica has finally stuffed a carrot stick into her mouth, so the boy from my journalism class volunteers the answer so Jessica doesn't have to spit carrot chunks everywhere.

"They're our student government crowd…you know...the Associated Student Body officers. The Leadership class must have gotten out late.

Jessica jumps right in. She must have swallowed her carrot stick whole. "And they're…_together," _she says pointedly.

As they approach and pass our table in pairs, she begins whispering names, grades, and elected positions. "Emmett McCart, senior, and Rosalie Hale, junior…Athletic Commissioner and Secretary…Alice Brandon, junior, and Jasper Whitlock, senior…Activities Commissioner and Vice President…and Edward Cullen, senior, and Ben Cheney, senior…President and Treasurer."

"Wait…" I whisper. "Those two guys… _They're_ together, too?"

Jessica bursts into obnoxious laughter, loudly exclaiming, "Holy crap, Bella! No! They're not _gay_!"

She's just gotten the attention of everyone in the vicinity, including those two boys, who see Jessica looking from me to them and back as she giggles her empty head off. It's painfully obvious they were the topic of conversation. They glare at me like I'm a moron but move off to join their friends…who are watching…because they also heard Jessica.

I duck my head into my hands and stare down at the lunchroom table. I can never look anyone at Forks High School in the eye again. Except for maybe Angela, God bless her, because she's giving Jessica hell at the moment.

*I*

_I'm not just the new girl whose father is the Chief of Police anymore. Since lunchtime, I'm the new weird girl whose father is the Chief of Police and who thought ASB President, Edward Cullen, and Treasurer, Ben Cheney, were gay lovers. And THEY think I thought that! But they're not gay. I've been assured of that, along with everyone else. Loudly. By Jessica. I'm so mad at her I could just scream. She's the one who implied the ASB cabinet was all "together" in the first place! I was so embarrassed and sick to my stomach that I couldn't eat the rest of my lunch. I just sat there with my beet red face in my hands and felt everyone's eyes on me. _

_Thank God, kind, sweet Angela has fifth period Advanced Bio with me, so we walked to class together after lunch. She said she didn't know Edward Cullen or Ben Cheney very well, but she would explain the misunderstanding to Alice Brandon in sixth period and Alice could hopefully pass the word onto them tomorrow during their Leadership class. Then Angela told me everyone in Bio already had a lab partner, so maybe Mr. Banner would let me work with her and her partner, Lee Stevens._

_Unfortunately, that didn't work out, since another student added Advanced Biology right after I did and I wound up with my own lab partner. Even more unfortunately, my new lab partner is ridiculously attractive senior and student body President, Un-gay Edward the Lionheaded…_

* * *

**A/N: And so they meet. So near…and yet so mortifying. I'm anxious to hear your thoughts. I'll try to stick to weekend updates...Saturdays when possible.**


	5. A Friend In Deed

**Indelible**

**A/N: **Didn't get this posted by Saturday, but it IS still the weekend where I live. Also didn't make it through the reviews for chapter 4 but I'll try to catch up. I've been working on an epilogue for Fan Fiction, Sex Gods and Single Girls (finally). Expect that by June 22, the 3-year anniversary of the birth of that silly beast.

Disclaimer: I don't own much...certainly not Twilight.

* * *

**Chapter 5: A Friend In Deed**

My cell phone vibrates on the nightstand next to me, interrupting my perusal of my old green notebook. Fitz, still lying curled up on the bed, lifts his head to look at me.

"I'm sure it's for me," I say, patting him. Fitz drops his head back down to the bed with a sigh. I pick up my vibrating phone and glance at the image on the screen as I take the call.

"Hey, Angela."

"_You knew it was me, Swan? So much for making a prank phone call!"_

I smile into the phone. "Yeah, the photo that comes up when you use your cell is a dead giveaway. You might want to consider using the old pay phone in front of the Food Mart next time." I hear Angela's familiar soft laugh.

"_I can just imagine setting that up… 'Ben, you're in charge of the kids. I'm going to pop over to the pay phone at the Food Mart to prank phone call Swan.' 'Sure thing, sweetheart. Drive carefully and pick up some Mint Chip ice cream while you're there.' He wouldn't even question it; he'd just go along."_

It's my turn to laugh. "He probably would. Pastor Ben knows our relationship is a special one—there'll be no salvation for us." My eyes drift down to the notebook, propped open on my lap. "I was just thinking of you, Angela…"

"_Because I've been badgering you with nightly phone calls and the occasional visit?"_

Angela has been a solid-rock-of-a-friend since the day we met. I've been particularly grateful for her friendship in the days since Charlie died. She has hugged me and cried with me, listened when I needed to talk, talked when I needed a distraction, and she's been helping me navigate and coordinate death's aftermath and arrangements.

"I love your badgering. You're the best of badgerers. But actually, I was remembering my first day at Forks High…you know…when Jessica made me think Ben and Edward were a couple…and then announced to the whole cafeteria that I thought they were gay lovers." Angela makes a squealing sound.

"_Oh gosh, I haven't thought about that in ages! That was awful!" _

"Tell me about it!" I say over her laughter. "You weren't the one whose face fried to a crisp in embarrassment…over and over again!"

"_No, but I felt your pain. There you were…the new girl…obviously on the shy side…and 'Assica' pulls that stunt on your very first day."_

I burst into giggles. It's been years since I've heard Jessica Newton referred to as 'Assica,' but it's even funnier coming from Angela, who is Reverend Weber's daughter and Pastor Ben's wife. She's such a good person and everyone thinks of her as the 'quintessential good girl' but I know she has a devilish streak.

"_How dreadful was it when Edward showed up to add fifth period Bio?!"_

"To be MY lab partner! The whole time he was talking with Mr. Banner I was chanting, _pleasegoaway, pleasegoaway, pleasegoaway_. I remember looking across the room at you…your eyes were as big as saucers."

"_I couldn't stand watching but I couldn't look away. It was such a train wreck!"_

"I know!" I start giggling as the scene unfolds in my mind…Edward turning away from Mr. Banner…heading to his assigned seat…his body stiffening as he spots me there…his expression grim as he brushes past behind me…pulls his chair out…and takes his seat with a huff.

"Poor Edward, he was too polite to actually say anything rude to me. He just sat there suffering in silence…with his chair practically in the aisle to get away from the weird, homophobic, new girl."

It takes Angela a few seconds to respond. She's too busy making snorting sounds.

"_Well, things worked out amazingly well after the debacle of your first day. Edward moved his chair back into place and within a few months' time, the hottest boy to walk the halls of Forks High was dating the weird, homophobic new girl…and I was dating heterosexual Ben!"_

We're both breathless from laughing. "Yeah…that was pretty amazing," I sigh.

Angela doesn't say anything for a moment. She knows another whole year of amazing followed the end of that school year…before the amazing came to a halt.

"_So, what made you think of that horrible day?" _she finally asks in a more serious voice.

"Oh, I was just…reading my old journal from high school…"

_Are you writing again?"_

Angela knows about the journal. She's heard excerpts and knows bits and pieces from it have found their way into relatively obscure print.

"No. I dug it out because…"

I'm not ready to tell her I imagined I saw Edward…because that's probably what that was, earlier today. Nor am I ready to examine why I would be imagining his presence here in Forks after all this time.

"I was thinking of when I moved here…how awkward it was at first, living with Charlie when I didn't really know him all that well and him trying to figure out how to parent a teenaged daughter full-time."

"_Well, of course it was awkward. For both of you. Even though you and your dad turned out to be alike in so many ways, you were used to living with your mom."_

I nod at her words. At the time, Mom's wacky was my normal.

"_Speaking of your mom… You never told me what she finally decided. Are you picking her up in Port Angeles? Is she staying with you?"_

"Oh, I didn't tell you… Of course the plans have changed—this is my mother we're talking about, after all. Since she turns into a basket case when she flies alone, Phil is now coming with her. And no, they're not staying here. Phil booked a room at the Miller Tree bed and breakfast. They're leaving Jacksonville at six tomorrow morning and should get into Port Angeles around one. Phil reserved a rental car, so they're just going to call when they get to Forks."

"_How long are they staying?"_

"The Suns just started their season and they really can't spare Phil from their coaching staff. He can only get away for two days. So they'll get here tomorrow afternoon, be here for the funeral on Wednesday, and then leave to fly back on Thursday around noon."

"_That's such a short time."_

"Yeah, but honestly I'm glad it worked out this way. I know my mom is doing this for me and of course she means well, but if she were to stay here for very long right now, she'd probably just drive me crazy. She'd look around the house for projects, offering to help pack up Charlie's things to store, donate, or toss out. She'd want to rearrange the furniture or buy new and start suggesting paint colors to brighten up the walls. I'm not ready to do any of that."

"_Of course you're not. It takes time to grieve and adjust."_

"I told her I'd come visit her in Jacksonville in the summer. That way, she's happy, we can spend some quality time together, and I won't be losing my mind."

"_You're a smart cookie, Swan. So, what are you doing tomorrow before they get here?"_

"No plans, why?"

"_The book nook at the Cup and Saucer is finally finished. Want to come check it out?" _

"Of course I do! Angela, that's great!"

"_I have to warn you…I might try and put you to work organizing books…but I'll feed you blueberry scones and pour café lattes down your throat."_

I'm smiling at the visual. Angela owns and manages the Cup and Saucer—the old Coffee Hut, where Angela, Alice and I worked during high school and off and on during our college years. When the Hut went up for sale a few years ago, Angela bought it, updated it and renamed it the Cup and Saucer. She recently expanded, taking over the tiny defunct shoe repair shop next door, providing customers a quiet side room to read, study, or work on laptops while they consume the Cup's offerings.

"I'm happy to help—especially if you're going to hand-feed me. I'll come by early."

"_Great! Then I'll see you tomorrow morning, Bella."_

"See you tomorrow. Goodnight, Angela."

I return my phone to the bedside table and scratch dozing Fitz.

"Who needs to go potty outside?" I ask. He lifts his head and looks my way. "No, it's not me," I tell him. "Guess again. Potty outside?"

He hoists himself up and shakes himself out, snout to tail, ears flapping loudly against his head. Finally he jumps down off the bed, stretches, looks over his shoulder to make sure I'm serious about this, and leads me downstairs.

I let him out into the backyard. The rain has stopped, but the grass will still be wet, so I grab a towel for his return. While he does his business, I lock up out front and turn off the lights in the living room. By the time I return to the back door, he's there, waiting to be let in. He waits patiently as I wipe his legs and paws down and then he stares at me expectantly until I give him a chicken cookie for his efforts.

Back upstairs I take care of my own bedtime business, including potty _inside_, hang up my robe, and finally return to my room. Crawling into bed, I pick up my journal once again and go back to my entry for that fateful first day at Forks High.

*I*

_Luckily, Mr. Banner turned on the overhead projector, turned off the lights, and lectured all period long so I didn't have to talk to Edward and he wasn't forced to talk to me. I let my hair fall to the side, hid my face behind it, and dove into my note-taking. When the bell rang at the end of the period, Edward was up and out the door before I could even gather my things. _

_I don't know how we're ever going to do labs together._

_Sixth period Spanish 3 wasn't much better. We had a substitute teacher who couldn't issue me a textbook. She let us sit wherever we wanted. Guess who sat next to me? Jessica. (I'm serious!) She was still stuck on the whole lunch ordeal, giggling her head off and wondering how I could think for one minute that hunky senior, Edward Cullen, was gay. I ignored her comments but at least she shared her book and I already knew most of the vocabulary we had to copy and translate. _

_After school I went back to the front office to turn in my new-student paperwork to Mrs. Cope. Edward was there, talking to her, trying to change his schedule from what I could overhear. Mrs. Cope just kept shaking her head and smiling politely at him. I was going to duck back out the door to avoid Edward but I wasn't fast enough. He turned around, saw me, gave me the stink eye, and left in a huff. _

_I had to know, so I asked Mrs. Cope if he was trying to transfer out of fifth period Advanced Bio. She seemed surprised I knew but said yes. When I asked if it was because of me, she laughed and wondered where I'd gotten such a crazy idea. _

_She probably wasn't supposed to tell me another student's business, but maybe she could tell I'd had a rough first day. Leaning over the counter she quietly said Edward was repeating the second semester of Advanced Bio because he had an Incomplete grade in it from the previous school year. She said he was just upset because he now had a full schedule of academics his final semester of his senior year and that meant he wouldn't be able to practice with the baseball team during sixth period Athletics…and he's Forks High's star pitcher. _

_Poor Edward. He has so many reasons to hate fifth period Advanced Bio. _

_I sure hope tomorrow is a better day. If every day is as bad as this one, I'll fill up this notebook in about a week._

*I*

I close my notebook, set it on the bedside table, and turn off the lamp there. I'm smiling as I slide down under the covers and wiggle my toes against Fitz' warm body, lying down at the end of the bed. I already know how the next day turned out, of course.

It was the day I met Alice Brandon.

And the first day I spoke to Edward Cullen.

* * *

**A/N: A few more answers and questions from now and then. Hope you'll share your thoughts. Next chapter, next weekend, fingers crossed. **


	6. Coffees to Go

**Indelible**

**A/N: **I'm bad. I'm very bad. And slow. And I couldn't get to review replies. But I'm not going anywhere, I've just been busy with other stuff…including a final epilogue to Fan Fiction, Sex Gods and Single Girls. (Just in case you didn't know.)

Now here's this chapter of this… It's going to answer a question or two. Without infringing, of course.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Coffees to Go**

I wake up Tuesday morning and I'm shocked to find myself in bed, alone. Well, Fitz is still here, curled up next to my legs, but moments ago I was at Spartan Field, on the receiving end of a scorching kiss from Edward Cullen in his baseball uniform.

It's been awhile since he has sneaked into my dreams and it's been even longer since I've dreamed about him _that_ way, but damn, that boy sure knew how to kiss me stupid—dreams or otherwise. And it's just really pathetic that I would still dream about him after all this time. Especially that way.

Lifting my head, I look over to the alarm clock and next to it I spot the probable culprit that put Edward in my dreams. Reaching over, I pick up my old notebook. As I settle back to read, Mr. Darcy stirs, looking up at me and asking questions with his big brown doggy eyes.

"Nobody's getting out of bed yet, Fitz. Go back to sleep. It's still early." I reach down and pet him and he huffs but he's agreeable. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply and I open my old green notebook to pick up where I left off last night.

*I*

_Tuesday, February 5, 1991_

_Today certainly had its trying moments but I think I might survive this school year after all._

_We had to run laps today in PE and it was SO COLD but at least I was in sweats. Coach Clapp doesn't care if we walk, so I ran a little and walked a lot. With Jessica Stanley, who is in my PE class. I think she assumes she's my new best friend. Of course she brought up yesterday's lunchtime disaster and I decided to tell her Edward Cullen turned out to be my lab partner in Bio. When she finished laughing her head off I asked her about him. Big mistake. I'm pretty certain she now thinks I'm interested in him. She gave me this look, told me not to bother, and then told me all about Edward's "sordid past."_

*I*

"You're wasting your time, Bella," Jessica says, flipping her hair back over her shoulder as we walk around the track. "I mean, of course he's gorgeous. Anyone with eyes can see that. But he doesn't date. At least not anymore. Two years ago, when he was a sophomore and we were freshmen, he started going with a girl in our class…Tanya Denali. She was really pretty, with big blue eyes and long, strawberry blond hair. They were together the whole second semester and the summer that followed. But then her family moved to Seattle. Edward hasn't dated anyone since. Not all last year…and not so far this year."

"That's sad. Maybe he misses her," I say, because I think I should say something, even though I really don't know these people she's talking about.

"Personally, I think he probably got her pregnant," Jessica continues. "I think her family moved so she could have the baby. And then at the end of last school year, Edward was absent…like…_forever. _He even missed prom and final exams. Supposedly he was _sick_."

Her tone of voice tells me she is completely unconvinced of an illness on Edward's part. And the knowing expression on her face says she's waiting for me to arrive at the obvious conclusion—the conclusion she has arrived at—but I'm too slow, apparently, because she rushes to add up all the facts for me.

"I bet you anything he went to see her when the baby was born! He probably stayed there with her and then things must have not worked out between them, and now he's just, you know, pining away for her!" She shrugs and then she sniffs and gives her hair another flip. "Either that or none of the girls around here are pretty enough for him."

I bite my tongue to keep from snorting with laughter and just give her a thoughtful nod.

To me, it sounds like someone is jealous, possibly spurned, and quite probably, overly imaginative. Obviously I have to take anything she says with a grain of salt, but Mrs. Cope did say Edward was repeating Bio because he'd gotten a grade of Incomplete last year. That would certainly make sense if he'd been out with some kind of lengthy illness—but I'm doubtful it was a case of fatherhood.

*I*

_I seriously doubt Jessica's "theories" about Edward Cullen and his "mysterious past," but her theories made me even more curious about my cold and irritable, definitely un-gay, possibly lovelorn, ASB president, star-pitcher, lab partner, Edward Cullen._

_Third period American Lit was great. Jessica is in that class too, but so is a boy she seems to like, so maybe he'll keep her busy. But the great thing is that Alice Brandon is also in that class. And she's soooo nice! We partnered up for a poetry project. Alice and I are doing "The Road Not Taken," by Robert Frost. I have a really good feeling about Alice. I think we're going to become great friends. She even said so herself at the end of the period._

*I*

I'm sitting at my desk in Mr. Mason's classroom, doodling in my notebook, waiting for break to end and class to begin. More and more students begin filtering into class and Jessica walks in with the sandy-haired guy she pointed out to me yesterday in the cafeteria. Mark. Or maybe it was Mike? She's flirting with him, clasping her arms and pushing her boobs together and Mark-Mike keeps glancing down the front of her shirt when he thinks she's not looking.

Someone slides into the desk in front of mine. It's the pretty, dark-haired, student government waif-girl, Alice Something. She turns to face me with a friendly smile.

"Hi! I saw you come in. I'm Alice Brandon." I start to introduce myself, but she's already doing it for me. "And you're Bella Swan, of course! I already know who you are!" I blush because that must be a reference to me making a fool of myself in the cafeteria yesterday.

"Oh! I didn't mean it the way you're taking it!" she assures me quickly with wide blue eyes. "I just meant, I knew you were coming. We all did. Forks doesn't get many new students mid-year and news gets around."

"Oh, I see. That makes sense." I give her a tentative smile.

"Listen…" She leans closer, speaking quietly. "Don't worry about what happened yesterday at lunch. Angela told me what Jessica said—you know, about all of us in student government being _together_?" She pauses and I nod.

"I had a feeling that whole thing was Jessica's fault," she says, glancing over at Jessica, still giggling at Mark-Mike. Alice looks back at me. "I doubt she did it on purpose—she's just not that clever—but she didn't do anyone any favors laughing like a hyena and making the announcement she did."

Alice leans in closer still, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Between you and me…Jessica can be a real _Assica_ sometimes." I can't help snickering and Alice joins me, giving me a covert little wink. "Anyway," she says with a grin, "I'll straighten things out with Edward and Ben next period in Student Government. They'll understand."

"Thanks. I hope they understand. Edward is my lab partner in fifth period Bio and class was so uncomfortable yesterday. I had no clue what to do or say and he just seemed so angry."

She gives me an understanding look. "I don't think he was that upset about what happened at lunch. He was trying to sort out problems with his schedule and he was already mad about that before lunch."

"Oh." I nod, remembering my conversation with Mrs. Cope yesterday afternoon.

Alice smiles. "Anyway…next on the agenda… Mr. Mason is going to introduce a poetry project today in class. We'll get to pick partners, and a poem to analyze, and then we'll be reporting on the poem to the rest of the class. Do you want to be partners?"

"I…um...sure… I mean, of course." I frown. "How do you know what we'll be doing today?"

Alice laughs. "Well, I'm not psychic, if that's what you're wondering! My friend, Rosalie, is in Mr. Mason's second period American Lit class. She told me about today's lesson plan when I saw her in the hall a couple minutes ago."

"Oh! Duh!" I laugh and roll my eyes at myself.

Alice giggles. "Wait…" she says, putting her fingertips to her temples, appearing to zone out. After a few seconds, her blue eyes lock with mine and she says, "I foresee an outstanding grade on our poetry project!"

I like Alice already.

I like her even more when I get to Advanced Bio after lunch.

Edward is sitting at our lab table when I walk in, but when he looks in my direction I avert my eyes. Just in case. I set my books down on our table and pull out my chair, pulling it farther away from him, remembering he did the same yesterday. Again, just in case.

I feel his eyes on me as I take my seat.

"I promise I won't bite," a low voice says.

I look up in surprise, and yes, Edward Cullen has just spoken to me. I blush because…jeez Louise…not only is _he_ incredibly attractive, but so is his voice.

"Good," I reply. "James Porter bit me in first grade and lived to regret it."

I blush a little more as I realize what a dumb thing I just said, but Edward is smiling now and it's a crooked smile, which just makes it all the better—and all the worse—because it makes me blush even more.

"So,what happened to little James Porter?" There's amusement in Edward's voice.

"Little James Porter got himself a little black eye."

He laughs at that and I'm filled with relief because I think just maybe this might work out okay—if I can get my stupid blushing under control.

Edward clears his throat. "Look, uh, Bella…I'm sorry about yesterday…"

I interrupt him before he can get any further. "No, Edward. _I'm_ sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about…"

He cuts me off. "Yes, I do. I was very rude to…"

I shake my head. "You had every right to be. From what Jessica said in the cafeteria, I know it seemed like I thought you were…" I stop. I can't say it to his face. His ridiculously handsome face with those deep green eyes and sweeping lashes.

He nods in understanding. "I'm not, you know. Gay," he adds for clarification.

"I know. Me neither." As the words leave my mouth I promptly blush from the ends of my hair all the way to the tips of my toenails. What I just said is so stupid and I'm such a bumbling idiot and now Edward Cullen knows it too.

Fortunately Mr. Banner starts up the class right then and I can avoid Edward—though I can see him shaking with silent laughter out of the corner of my eye.

*I*

_Biology was so much better today than yesterday, although I can't seem to talk to Edward Cullen without making a fool of myself. I just hope he didn't think I was trying to tell him I was available when I told him I wasn't gay either. (As if someone like him would ever date someone like me!)_

_We had a lab to do, which helped keep me focused. I did the same lab back in Phoenix but didn't tell Edward that. I just let him be impressed when I did it quickly and correctly. If I'm lucky, he thinks I'm an intelligent girl who just says stupid things sometimes. At least it got easier to talk to him as we worked… _

*I*

I hear a whimper and I look up to see Fitz sitting on the floor, facing my bedroom door. He's looking back over his shoulder at me but he's in the ready-position to be let outside to do his morning business. I'd been so wrapped up in my notebook nostalgia I didn't even realize he'd jumped off the bed.

"Okay, Fitzy, give me a second." Folding my notebook open to the page I've been reading, I lay it down on the bedside table for later.

I get out of bed and follow Fitz downstairs to let him out the back door into the fenced-in backyard. While he takes care of his business, I go take care of my own. Returning to the kitchen, I make a single cup of coffee to start my day, knowing I'll have a second cup and probably even a third when I meet Angela at The Cup and Saucer.

When Fitz finishes sniffing and peeing the perimeter of the yard, he returns to the house for his morning treat and I drink my own morning treat as I make my bed, get dressed, and make myself presentable.

Angela sounded like she could use some help, so I'm just wearing jeans, my running shoes, a white T-shirt and a gray cardigan. Nothing fancy, in case I get put to work, but I look decent. It's almost eight o'clock, and the morning crowd has arrived, so I park Charlie's truck along the curb a half a block down the street from the coffee shop.

As I walk by the tinted-glass windows of The Cup and Saucer, I can see someone on the other side of the door, fumbling with a slipping bag of baked goods while trying to hang onto two large coffees-to-go.

"Need some help?" I ask as I get the door.

I freeze in place when I look up and see who's on the other side.

I only saw him in profile when he darted by yesterday, but now we're face to face.

It's the boy on the bike. It's Edward Cullen. But it's not Edward Cullen.

He's in his late teens and he's tall…at least six feet tall…and lanky. He has the same wild, streaky-colored, lion's mane head of hair, but it's slightly less wavy. His eyebrows are just as dark but more arched, and his eyes are more blue than green. His nose is straighter, and his lips might be thinner, but the cheek bones and the jaw line are dead-ringers.

The differences are obvious but the similarities are so striking.

"Thanks, I think I got it now," he says, giving me a friendly, slightly crooked smile.

"You…"

It's all I can do to exhale that single syllable but it's enough to make him pause, and as I watch, his expression slowly changes. His mouth drops open slightly and something that looks like vague recognition passes briefly through his eyes as he looks back at me.

He blinks. And then he smiles crookedly once more. "Uh, thanks again," he finally says with a nod, passing through the open door with his bag of goodies and his two coffees to go.

As I duck inside the coffee shop I turn and watch him through the window. He crosses the street at an angle, heading for a shiny, black Toyota Tacoma pick-up truck, parked several cars up on the opposite side of the street.

"I thought I saw you pass by the shop window." It's Angela. I didn't hear her come up behind me. "What are we watching?" she asks, looking over my shoulder.

"Look at that boy crossing the street. Whose hair does his remind you of? Think back to high school," I add.

She's silent for a moment.

"Oh wow," she finally says. "And his walk, too. He looks like Edward, from the back."

As he climbs into the driver's seat I nod. _He looks a lot like him from the front_, _too_, I think to myself, though I don't say it.

"Well, he's not from around here," Angela says as the truck starts up and pulls away from the curb.

I turn and look at her for clarification.

"Out-of-state license plates," she says. "Those weren't Washington plates."

* * *

**A/N: A few things should be clearer, maybe? Let me know. I love your theories.**


End file.
